Archive of Our Own

Hannibal woke to an empty space beside him in the bed. He stretched out his hand, searching, but found only cool sheets. Will was gone and had been gone for some time. Hannibal sat up and breathed in. Long enough for the immediacy of his scent to fade, though it lingered in the sheets and the pillows. The bathroom door stood open, the room empty, no sound of water running.

The floor chilled his feet. He moved silently down the stairs without allowing any thought into his mind. The absence of Will's wheelchair at the bottom calmed him to an extent, but he remained too aware of the kick of his heart against his ribs, an independent creature inside him that would not be stilled by logic.

He paused and breathed in again: coffee, the lemon oil he'd used on the table yesterday, the dogs. And Will. Of course. He stepped through into the dining room.

Will was seated at the table, glasses sliding down his nose, coffee in one hand and Hannibal's tablet in the other. "France won't extradite fugitives who face the death penalty." He looked up at Hannibal. "Did you know that?"

"I did. It's one of the reasons this seemed a sensible location."

Will slurped at his coffee. "They'd still put you in prison."

"They don't know me here. They would not take the proper precautions." Will was wearing his boxers and Hannibal's brown sweater, sleeves pulled down to cover half his hands. Hannibal wanted to touch him, to take him back upstairs. He wanted to ask why Will had left him to wake alone.

Will took his glasses off and put the tablet aside. He was waiting for Hannibal to ask, had likely set up this scene to draw the question from him. The knowledge was both a comfort and an irritation. Hannibal said nothing.

"I've been reading about extradition law. I guess I could've just asked you," Will said.

"Had you planned to move us if France proved unfavorable?"

"I didn't have any plans. I just wanted more information. Aren't you cold?"

Hannibal had come down in nothing but his underwear. Gooseflesh prickled across his shoulders as a draft wheezed through some uninsulated crack. "I would have checked the temperature if someone hadn't made off with my tablet."

"I guess I could get my own. It's more useful than I thought it would be."

"I woke up and you were gone," Hannibal said.

Will held out a hand to him. Hannibal crossed the room and took it. He pressed a kiss to Will's palm.

"I won't be in a wheelchair forever," Will said. "You can't expect me to stay where you put me."

"I know that."

Will reeled him in closer. He put Hannibal's hand on his chest, over his heart, and leaned his head against Hannibal's hip. "Do I need to tell you I'm not going anywhere?"

Hannibal didn't answer. He was focused on the quick thud of Will's heart.

"Because if you try some kind of Annie Wilkes move on me—" Will stopped short.

"I don't know who that is," Hannibal said.

"Stephen King character. You know who he is?"

"Of course I know who he is. I don't read his books."

"I guess you reading horror would be kind of redundant," Will said. "She kidnaps a guy and cuts off his foot with an axe."

Hannibal ran his hand through Will's hair. Will had his eyes closed, face turned toward the bare skin of Hannibal's stomach. "You don't look like a man who fears for his safety at the hands of a mad killer."

"You cut off my feet in that dream. And pinned me to the floor with a spike. I—" Will shook his head and nuzzled closer. "You said it was a relief that I couldn't leave."

"It is. Would we have had that conversation if you could? You are careful to address my issues and equally careful not to address your own."

Will sighed. "You know how I feel about psychoanalysis first thing in the morning."

"Or at any other time. Sometimes I think that you are more disturbed by my psychiatric practice than by the bodies I have left behind."

"Sometimes I am. And you were the best therapist I've ever had. Which says a lot."

"I was a very good psychiatrist." It was true, but he said it mainly because he knew it would make Will laugh, and it did, just a bare, amused breath. "I imagine I was also the first you saw willingly, which does make a difference."

Will picked up his coffee and wrapped his hands around it. He held it to his chest. "You're wrong actually. Most of them, yeah, police shrinks and school counselors. But I found someone in DC while I was getting my degree. Saw him for a few months. I thought it might help."

"It did not go as you had hoped?"

Will shrugged. "I told him too much. He tried to have me committed. So you two have that much in common."

"What was his name?"

"So you can eat his heart? You know I won't tell you, so why ask?"

"They say it's the thought that counts."

"You—" Will smiled up at him, a light and disbelieving expression that showed his teeth and warmed his eyes. "You have the worst sense of humor, Hannibal. The worst."

Hannibal bent to kiss him and felt Will's arms slide around his neck as their lips met. Will tasted of coffee and toothpaste. He held on when Hannibal would've pulled back.

"Take me upstairs," Will said. "You're freezing."

"I could get dressed."

"Or we could get back in bed."

Hannibal picked him up. For once, Will didn't hold himself stiff, resentful of his own need. He kissed Hannibal's neck and pushed his fingers up into his hair, and his body was warm and soft.

It was warmer still once they lay in bed together. Hannibal pulled Will back against his chest. He slid his hands up under Will's sweater to warm them on his skin. Will hissed at the cold but didn't push him away. Hannibal tucked his face into the back of Will's neck and closed his eyes.

"He thought I was dangerous," Will said.

"Did you agree with him?"

Will was quiet for a long time, fingers sliding over the tendons in Hannibal's forearm. "Not at the time. Sometimes I wonder if I turned out like this because it's what everyone expected from me."

Hannibal crossed his arms over Will's stomach and breathed in the woodsmoke scent of his anger. He thought of Will's hands entirely coated in blood, like black oil in the moonlight. "We could move the bed downstairs until you can walk again," he said. "Into the study, perhaps."

Will's hand stilled on his arm. "That would be good. In front of the fireplace?"

"Yes. Although we will need window coverings of some sort. Nightstands, but we will need those in any case."

Will turned in his arms so that they lay face to face. "When does the lease on the rental expire?"

"The end of the month."

"We've got a lot to do before then."

"Yes. I have a list."

Will kissed him, slow and soft. Hannibal fell into it. He held Will's face in his hands and felt the brush of Will's hair against his forehead, stubble on his palms, breath in his mouth.

*

"What's wrong with Ikea?" Will said.

"I hardly know how to begin answering that question."

"What's the worst thing?"

"The smell. The scented candles," Hannibal said. "The chemical outgassing from the rugs and upholstery. The food."

"The food smells good. I like the Swedish meatballs."

"I am not surprised," Hannibal said.

Will laughed and gave in with an ease that made Hannibal suspect he'd only brought it up to get a reaction. They drove into Marseille instead and made their way to a furniture store Hannibal had noted earlier, down a leafy side street filled with cafes and a scattering of modern art galleries.

"This isn't as bad as I thought it would be," Will said.

"What were you expecting?"

"Wherever you used to shop in Baltimore. Gothic Antlers 'R' Us. I don't know."

"As I have said before, that would not suit the style of the house."

The pieces in the store bordered on rustic but with a sharp, modern flavor that pleased Hannibal: raw edged tables with fired copper tops, industrial steel and glass cabinets with an antique sheen to the metal, a vast mirror with a verdigris frame that would work well in the bedroom. He watched Will wheel himself around the floor, obviously looking for price tags that did not exist. It was one of the reasons Hannibal had chosen this place.

Will shot him a look across the room. Hannibal ignored him and spoke to the shop assistant about the mirror.

Will followed after a minute or two. He listened until the assistant had gone away to check their delivery schedule. "That mirror's taller than you are," he said. "You really want that thing in our bedroom?"

"Do you object?"

"I guess not," Will said. He glanced at it and then around the display room. He ran his hands down his thighs. "I'm gonna wait outside."

"No," Hannibal said.

"What do you mean no?" Will frowned at him. The effect was dampened by the fall of hair in his eyes and his impatient gesture as he pushed it away. He'd told Hannibal more than once over Skype that he was going to get it cut short before he came home. He'd never done it.

Hannibal sat on a leather ottoman so that their eyes were at a level. "I would like you to stay."

"For what? You saw my house."

"I saw the care evident in your choices. How long did it take you to furnish it?"

Will looked down at the stretch of his hands over his knees. "I don't know. A while."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"It was a couple bookcases and a bed. I had to have furniture."

"You certainly didn't buy it all from Ikea."

"I went to a few places."

"And so will we. Is there anything you like here?"

Will glanced up at him with unfeigned vulnerability that set Hannibal's heart pounding. "Wouldn't it be easier if … do you really want me involved in this?"

"It's our house, is it not?"

Will swallowed. "That doesn't sound strange to you?"

"It does. But it is also true, and I wouldn't wish to change it."

"No. Me neither," Will said quietly.

Hannibal took Will's hands and pressed them between both of his. Will looked immediately away, searching the room for anyone who might be watching them. Hannibal took advantage of his distraction to lean close and steal a kiss when he turned back.

"Stop that," Will said, but he was smiling.

"We are the only customers in the store. And I am going to spend roughly two thousand euros on that mirror. The shop assistant would probably let me have you over the sofa."

Will let out a low breath of laughter. He still didn't pull his hands away. "He might, but I wouldn't. You really want that thing?"

"Ah, now you have an opinion on it?"

"Not on it, really. It's fine. Just … full length mirrors in the dark don't always mix well with my nightmares."

"I will put it elsewhere. Or make sure you can't see it from the bed at least. Would that do?"

"It might. We can try it."

"Is there anything else you want here?"

Will looked around again, gaze on the furniture this time, skipping from piece to piece without fixing anywhere. "I'm having a hard time believing we're really doing this," he said.

"It was your idea."

"I know, I know." He paused. "The finish on those copper tables isn't that hard to do. All you need is a blowtorch and some shellac."

"You were going to build me bookcases. If you like the tables, it would save time to simply buy them."

Will's shoulder twitched in something short of a shrug. "Yeah, but."

"Will. Can you make all the furniture we need by the end of the month?"

"...No."

"Then we will need to buy something."

"Yeah, okay." Will wheeled his chair around abruptly and headed for the shop assistant at such a speed that the man looked like he was afraid he might be run down.

Hannibal watched with a quiet smile as Will made arrangements for two copper-topped bedside tables to be delivered with the mirror. He handed over his own credit card for all of it. They left shortly afterward, Will silent and Hannibal trying hard not be visibly amused.

"It's still weird," Will said.

"Yes, indeed."

Will glared up at him. Hannibal brushed his hair helpfully out of his eyes, and Will smacked his hand away. "Where else are we going?"

"Window treatments for the study. This way."

In the second shop, Hannibal strode immediately to the back where the heavy crimson paisley drapes hung. He presented them to Will and waited. Inducing outrage seemed like a more potentially effective course than gentle encouragement.

"No," Will said.

"No?"

"No and also what the hell? With the rug you've got in there? Even I can see—" Will stopped and eyed him. "You're usually more subtle than this."

"You're usually more sensible than this."

Will flushed a little. "I'd say you're not usually this much of asshole, but we both know that wouldn't be true."

Hannibal waited, hands clasped behind his back.

"Sorry," Will muttered.

"What would you choose?"

Will took his time. He avoided the plaids entirely, which Hannibal found both amusing and touching, and finally showed him a dark brown velvet that would do very well. "We'll need four panels," Hannibal said.

"That's all you've got to say? It's going to be your study after it's our bedroom." He faltered just a little on our.

"Buy the curtains, Will."

"You buy the curtains. I picked them out. I'm getting some air." He made a break for the door.

Hannibal didn't try to stop him. He paid with a card attached to a Swiss bank account. It occurred to him that he should make sure Will had access, if not to this account, then to his main one and to the safe deposit box. The thought came to him in such an offhand manner than it almost slipped past unnoticed. He caught it by its coattails and dragged it back for examination.

He should give Will full access to the majority of his fortune. To the safe deposit box that contained not only most of his cash reserves but nearly all of his best forged identification as well. He should, essentially, place his life and his freedom in Will's hands even more thoroughly than he had already done. He should tie them together beyond all hope of escape, or at least beyond all hope of his own escape.

To what end? To ease Will's mind about their future. Because it would be their future. Their dogs, their house, their life.

Hannibal took the bag containing the curtains. He made it nearly to the door before he realized they had no rods and no hardware with which to hang them. He went back for those and then gave Will the bags to carry on the way back to the car. He didn't suggest further shopping. It was a quiet ride home.

*

That afternoon, Hannibal dismantled the bed frame, carried it down to the study, and went back for the mattress while Will got to work screwing it together again.

The mattress had to be bent around the tight corner at the top of the stairs, bumped down, and then carried with the dogs underfoot every step of the way. In a more reasonable phase of his life, Hannibal would have paid someone to do this, but Will had given him a cross look and disregarded the suggestion entirely. Of course, in a more reasonable phase of his life, he would not have moved the bed into the study at all.

He stopped to lean the mattress against the wall, wipe sweat from his forehead, and lock the dogs in the bathroom. This had been his idea.

He closed his eyes briefly and started dragging the mattress down the hall. The worst part would be the turn into the study itself. He paused in the doorway.

Will looked up. "You'll have to hang the curtains too. I don't think I'll be tall enough even kneeling on the top step of the ladder."

Hannibal took a slow breath. "Yes. Of course."

"You'll need a masonry bit. It's stone behind the plaster. Have you hung curtains before?"

Hannibal didn't bother to answer. He went to fetch the drill and the level. He hadn't hung curtains before – it was perfectly possible to pay other people to do that as well – but he had certainly used a drill. Using it on a wall did not seem substantially harder than using it on a human skull, especially since the wall would not try to move while he was drilling into it.

He marked out the holes and raised the drill. Will continued to put the bed frame back together and pretended not to watch him. It wasn't that difficult, although it did require more pressure than he would've expected, and the plaster chipped slightly around the edges of the holes. He got the curtains threaded on and the rods hung.

"Not bad," Will said.

Hannibal climbed down and turned to face him. Will had managed to haul the mattress back onto the reassembled bed frame and was now stretched out on it, arms crossed behind his head.

"I have transplanted organs," Hannibal said. "This was a fairly simple procedure in comparison."

"You wouldn't know it to watch some people try. Come over here."

Hannibal took off his shoes and lay down beside him. "I should get the sheets."

"You're sweating. I didn't know you did that."

"I have been reliably informed that I am human, no matter how disappointing that may be."

Will smiled softly and propped himself up on one elbow to look down at him. "I should've made you help this summer."

"I could have hired help for you if you wanted help."

"I didn't need help, but it would've been fun. This was fun."

Hannibal gave him a flat look. Will was laughing silently at him. Hannibal gripped a fistful of his hair and tugged gently until Will leaned down and allowed himself to be kissed.

"It's too long again," Will said. He laid his head down on Hannibal's chest. "I told you you didn't cut it short enough."

"And you've spent the past month in Washington DC, a city entirely devoid of barbershops and hair salons. How unfortunate for you."

"I was busy."

"I'm sure." Hannibal stroked through his hair and rubbed at his scalp and felt Will's body ease against his.

"I guess you've found someplace around here."

"Yes. I'll show you if you like. It's a traditional barbershop. I don't think you'd find it objectionable."

Will looked up at him, not quite meeting his eyes. "Would you do it again?"

"Even though I don't cut it short enough?"

"You'll do better this time. I believe in you."

"I will if you want me to, yes."

Will leaned up to kiss him. In the same moment, a high, shrill yip came down the hall. Will sighed against his cheek. "Did you lock the dogs up somewhere?"

"They were underfoot."

"Better go let them out. What time is it?"

"Not yet time for them to eat and well past time for our lunch."

"I'm not that hungry," Will said. He pushed himself up on his elbows over Hannibal and looked down at him. One hand spread out over the side of his neck, and he ran his thumbnail lightly along the edge of Hannibal's cheekbone.

"You look as if you're searching for something," Hannibal said.

"Thanks for moving the bed." Will kissed him carefully, parting his lips and sinking into his mouth. His lashes moved against Hannibal's skin.

Hannibal turned toward him, and Will bent his knee to rest his leg over Hannibal's. It was a new habit since his injury, presumably designed to keep his feet in their casts from knocking together. Hannibal found it oddly pleasing, considering that he was being used as furniture. He slipped a hand behind Will's thigh to pull him closer, and Will obliged, body leaning into his.

Perruque yipped again and scratched at the bathroom door. Will kept kissing him for a few long seconds. Even when he stopped he didn't pull away or speak, just rested his cheek against Hannibal's and sighed again.

"I'll get them," Hannibal said.

Will tightened his hold for a second and then let him go. "I don't even know if we have clean sheets. I was going to do laundry today."

"The cotton knit ones are clean."

"I hate those."

"Yes, I am aware. You've never said why."

"They're clingy. It's like being glued into bed. Especially when they get damp."

Hannibal sat up. "I'll put the others in the wash." He looked down at Will, stretched out on his back with his shirt riding up and his cheeks lightly flushed. "Will you wait for me?"

"Or I could get up and do something useful."

Hannibal set a hand in the middle of his chest. "Or you could wait for me."

Will let out a breath and relaxed back onto the bed. "I could."

Hannibal left him there, though it was a wrench. He let the dogs out of the bathroom, checked their water, and put the sheets in the wash. He climbed the stairs to the bedroom and collected the various articles they had each stored by their respective sides of the bed: books, the tablet, Will's glasses, tissues, pens, notebooks, several printed sheets on a case for Interpol… Will was neat enough about it, but he did tend to collect clutter.

He piled all of it into a box to carry it down. Will still lay as Hannibal had left him and gave him a sketchy wave when he entered. "May I put your work documents elsewhere?" Hannibal asked.

Will blinked at him and then sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Why? And if I hear the words 'sleep hygeine' at any point in this conversation…"

"I'm aware that your difficulties won't be solved so easily, but different rooms have different functions. It's not necessary to build a nest of paperwork around the bed."

Will's mouth twitched. "I don't have to have the files in bed with me, I guess. I don't want to give you nightmares."

"Is there somewhere you would like me to put them?"

Will grinned. "You sound like you can think of a few places you'd like to put them right now."

Hannibal set the box down and crawled across the bed to straddle his body and pin his forearms against the mattress.

Will didn't struggle. He looked up at Hannibal, bright-edged grin fading into something softer. "On the off chance that actually was an underhanded attempt at sleep therapy and not just your usual neat freak act, sleeping with you helps the nightmares more than anything else ever has. Just so you know."

"Even when you dream of me?"

"Yeah, even then." Will shifted under him. "I waited for you. As requested."

"You did." Hannibal bent low to kiss him and let some of his weight settle on him, holding him down more thoroughly. "It's appreciated."

"We were going to talk about your fantasies when I got back," Will said. "Now I'm wondering if they involve chaining me to the bed so I don't wander off."

"They haven't up until now, but I could if you'd like."

Will bit at Hannibal's lower lip hard enough to leave the hot imprints of his teeth behind. He twisted one arm free and flipped Hannibal over onto his back, Will laid out on top of him. "No thanks. I think once was enough. Any other requests?"

Hannibal looked up at the humor in his eyes, the untroubled set of his face. Now was neither the time nor the place, but the words proved unstoppable: "I'd like to give you access to my accounts."

Will stared at him for about three seconds and then hung his head, breathing out mostly silent laughter. "That's a hell of a fantasy, Hannibal."

"It's a newly formed one."

"Any particular reason?"

"It will allow you to find me more easily if that becomes necessary. You will be provided for, regardless of what the future holds for us."

"I can provide for myself."

"Unless and until the FBI freezes your assets. It would be practical."

Will picked at the top button of Hannibal's shirt, eyes gone distant with thought. After a few seconds, he raised his head and kissed Hannibal again, soft and off center. The second kiss held more urgency. Will parted his lips and slid his tongue against Hannibal's, along the sharp edge of his teeth.

Hannibal held him lightly by the waist. Will worked his hands into his hair again and cradled the back of his head. Their noses bumped once. Will ran his nails over Hannibal's scalp, readjusted, and sucked at his lower lip. He had his ankles hooked over Hannibal's legs to keep the pressure off his feet.

"I ought to object to being constantly used as a footrest," Hannibal murmured.

"But you don't." Will didn't let him answer, pressing into the kiss with more force, more heat.

Hannibal pushed his hands up under Will's shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin, the faint tackiness where sweat had dried. He pulled Will's shirt off over his head and yanked at his belt, wanting more.

Will let him do it and just kept kissing him, unhurried, thumbs smoothing over the sides of Hannibal's face. It wasn't until Hannibal started working on the buttons of his own shirt that he felt Will smile.

"In a hurry?" Will said.

Hannibal didn't bother to answer. He only kept going until they lay against each other, bare skin to bare skin, and the soft, contented noise Will made meant that he was as satisfied with that as Hannibal was. From there, he had Will's cooperation in discarding the rest of their clothes and then he had Will's arms around him, holding him close and tight. Will raised his head enough to look down at him, wet his lips, and hesitated, a faint frown hovering around his eyes.

"What is it?" Hannibal said.

"Nothing."

Hannibal slid his hands down Will's back, over his ass and thighs. He waited.

Will shook his head. "Later. Did we just get naked for the hell of it or was there something specific you wanted?"

"I wanted to be able to touch you. And now I can."

"Is that all you want?"

It had been the only thing in his mind but now, seeing Will above him with his thighs spread around his body, another image came to him.

"Since you ask," he said and urged Will up his body until he was kneeling over his chest, hands braced on the headboard.

The head of his cock brushed Hannibal's lower lip, and Will bit his own lip, blinking rapidly down at him. "You sure about this?"

Hannibal smoothed his hands down Will's thighs and squeezed. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because we haven't done it this way since that night and I assumed you didn't want to?"

Hannibal let one corner of his mouth curl up. "You've thought about it then. Often?"

"Jackass," Will muttered. He dragged his cock over Hannibal's lips with one hand. The other tangled in Hannibal's hair to hold him still, and Hannibal was harder than he had been a moment ago. "Is that a yes?"

"It was my idea."

"Yeah, it was, and now you're avoiding the question." Will took a tighter grip on his hair. "Do you want me to fuck your mouth?"

It was the rush of saliva in Hannibal's mouth that made him swallow, nothing else. "Yes," he said.

Will pushed past Hannibal's lips with a sigh that hollowed out his stomach and shook at the end as he slid all the way to the back of his throat. Hannibal swallowed again, this time around him, and Will sucked in air and drew back a few inches.

Their eyes met. Will rubbed the head of his cock slowly over Hannibal's tongue, fingers on his chin to keep his mouth open. "I have thought about it," he said. "Those scratches you put on me lasted for days."

Hannibal set his nails into the skin above Will's hipbones. Will's eyes fell closed, and he pushed in, hand cradling Hannibal's jaw. He moved in slow, shallow thrusts. Hannibal felt the quiver of muscles under his skin as he sank his nails in deeper.

His own arousal seemed almost dull when compared to Will's: the way a little pain could draw a quicker breath from him, the hard tension of his thighs, the weight of him on Hannibal's chest and the thick shaft on his tongue. He moved his hands to Will's lower back and dragged his nails downward over the spread of his cheeks.

Will's breath came out in a high, soft sound. He reached up to hold onto the headboard again and started moving in earnest, thrusts that pressed him deep enough to choke Hannibal for a second at a time.

Hannibal thought of holding him there for as long as he could take it, for as long as either of them could take it. He reached around Will for his own cock, hips curling up at the thought. Or the other way around. Will holding him deep, caught, as if he might consume him entirely. Hannibal let his eyes close and sucked, enveloped entirely in sensation and scent and imagination. He stroked himself roughly, other hand feeling the map of scratches he'd left on Will's skin. In his mind, they became scars, another permanent mark on him, visible to everyone.

Hannibal came first with a tight grip on his cock and a low, drawn out groan around Will's as his body convulsed. He dug the fingers of his other hand into the meat of Will's thigh.

Will gasped, breath going unsteady. He held Hannibal's hair tight and fucked forward in short, tight thrusts for a minute longer. He bared his teeth when he came, face contorted in a semblance of pain.

He stayed bent over Hannibal afterward, almost trembling as Hannibal stroked down the length of his spine. His softening cock lay against Hannibal's cheek, and Hannibal licked at it until Will got off him and collapsed onto the mattress.

"Fuck," Will said softly.

"You could ask next time."

"I didn't want to ask. Doesn't seem like the kind of thing you do without an invitation."

Hannibal turned his head to look at him. "You could not ask next time."

Will turned onto his side to blink at him, cheek cushioned on his hand. "How would that go? Just …?"

"Position me as you like. Kneel above me. Press your cock against my mouth."

Will's chest hitched a little with a sudden breath. "Just like that?"

"I will tell you if I object."

"You promise?"

"I promise," Hannibal said. He could see Will's mind turning that over and over, worrying at the rough edges but aroused by it despite himself. Hannibal reached over the edge of the bed and pulled a blanket over them, wrapping Will up close. "Do you think I would have a problem saying no to you?"

Will looked at him for a second and then kissed him, licking at his friction-swollen lips. "No. I have a lot of faith in your ability to tell me to fuck off in the politest way possible."

"It's a valuable skill, useful in many situations."

"Yeah, you'll have to teach me that someday." He inched closer, head on Hannibal's chest, hand over his heart. "Okay. I'll think about it. Is it too late for lunch?"

"Not if it's light. A salad, perhaps. Roasted new potatoes and the hard boiled quail's eggs."

"I might've eaten the quail's eggs."

"All of them?"

"There weren't that many. They were really small." Will looked up at him. "Sorry."

"Never mind. The salmon then."

Will kept watching him, face still and solemn.

Hannibal brushed his hair back from his eyes. "What is it? You were going to tell me something before."

"Buying furniture together. Planning meals. And now you're talking about a – a joint checking account basically. Are you having any trouble with this at all?"

"Yes," Hannibal said.

Will's face relaxed. He laid his head down again, voice vibrating through Hannibal's chest. "Okay. I didn't want to be the only one."

Hannibal kissed the top of his head. "I promise you, you're not."